


Benched

by XPerimental



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blow Jobs, Breeding, Breeding Bench, Dragons, Eggs, Facials, Hellhouds, Impossibly huge dicks, M/M, Magic, Multi, Oral Knotting, Other, Oviposition, Penis Size, Size Difference, Size Kink, Spitroasting, Warhorses, beastiality, knots, thieves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 19:45:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18556570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XPerimental/pseuds/XPerimental
Summary: There was a loud clanking, a latching noise somewhere ahead of him that echoed oddly in his padded box.“All hooked up?” called the man from earlier.He could only just feel that whatever he was hooked to was moving, heart pounding and mind racing. What was in the other boxes?His ass clenched, the clinical stretching he’d gotten as a ‘kindness’ before being sent to the Mad King still had him sore and feeling over sensitive…Well, some clinical part of him calmed, if he got fucked by an animal it was at least better than whatever the Mad King planned.Though, if he did get through this, if he did endure… whatever was going to be waiting for him, then the stables and kennels and whatnot were bound to be less guarded than the palace, right? No one was stupid enough to try and steal a warhorse or a hellhound, not the ones specially trained for the Mad Kings forces.If he could just endure…





	Benched

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick bit of writing, inspired by all the egg-laying goodness I've been reading lately ;)  
> Hope the "Summary" is alright, I'm still unsure about summaries that are bits of the story. Sometimes it works.  
> As ever, if you notice something you think should be tagged, please let me know :) I hope you enjoy!  
> ~XPeri  
> Not Beta-read

He ran, knowing it was futile, that no one escaped from the Mad King when he marked you with his horrible red scarf—

No one survived the night when the Mad King chose you for his bedchamber with the red scarf.

Everyone was given the opportunity to run, though, and he had taken his chance.

The Mad King hadn’t chosen a former thief before, so far as he knew.

He could hear the commotion of guards behind him, and then below him as he clambered up a decorative display on one wall to reach a vent. In the winter, this would have been suicide; the vents being used to direct heat from the Furnace and the Firedrakes throughout the castle, he would have been smoked to death.

In the summer, though, while they were still uncomfortably hot from being connected to the Firedrakes, the furnace was not in use.

He just felt lucky that he fit.

A wiggling crawl in the dark, one hand always further forward to—fuck!

He can’t keep himself from sliding, the sudden slope downwards rough on his still naked skin, only saved from being scraped raw by the years and years worth of ash sliding with him.

His heart was high in his throat when there was finally a break in the long, long slide—it’s only his experience with abrupt freefalls that he manages to catch onto some hanging chains at the sudden open space around him, his callused hands protecting him from the sudden friction.

He looks around the darkness, looking for where the chain he was hanging onto was connected—to the ceiling, and to the wall. The chain continued down, and he could hear the collection of mens voices in a rumble below him.

Well, he couldn’t exactly go back up...

His stomach squirmed at the thought of going down—of going too far down, mind taken up with the vision his parents put into his head as a child—dig down enough and you’ll fall into the firedrakes den!

Knowing that the dragons the Mad King used in his army were much, much farther down than he could even accidentally make his way to didn’t help matters much.

It took an eternity to climb down, long enough that his arms were trembling with strain, and his fingers were nearly numb, but he did eventually get down.

The men were rushing about with purpose, but that purpose didn’t seem to be searching for him—the whole space was darkly lit, with huge containers filling the cavernous room. It looked like he’d just missed an even greater commotion.

It also looked like those containers were going out.

At the moment he didn’t care where.

Slipping around the edge of the room, sticking to shadows, he eventually got lucky; one of the generators for the lights, it looked like, and he could just barely get the plug out—

The lights flickered once, twice, the men exclaiming in the sudden darkness.

“We’re on a fucking schedule, get those lights back on!”

The light’s wouldn’t stay off forever, and he had to take advantage of the confusion while he could.

Moving away from the commotion, he slipped into what looked like an open bay door, just visible in the flickering light on the opposite side of the cavern.

In between flashes, he could see the room was full of gigantic crates on wheels—ran, crouched as low as he could to the nearest open one, yanking on a strap above the door to slide it closed—he was immediately surrounded in the scent of musk, some sort of animal scent strong in the darkened interior. The floor under his hands and knees were strangely padded.

“Hey—HEY! The fuck you doing over there? Who’s fucking with the transport benches, ay?”

He held his breath, creeping further into the—transport bench?—staring blankly into the darkness.

“Yeah, right, whoever was _behind_ with filling their bench, better be ready to head out once we can get these fucking lights on!”

Slightly fainter, “Ay, I don’t want to be moving these with the lights out, and you don’t want his Majesty blaming anyone for a delay, the hell is… aah, fucking fantastic. _AYE_ let’s get this _moving_!”

He tensed when faint light let through the edges of the ‘bench’ he was in, sound of moving bodies loud around where he’d entered—though really, what sort of animals did they move in these? It was big enough for either Hellhounds or Horses, but they’d make a mess of the padding.

But what had him more alarmed was the heavy hum of magic being activated around him, thick enough to make the hairs on his arms rise.

Not _actually_ , though—that was the reason he’d been captured in the first place; he was Magic Neutral, something particularly illegal in a place that used magic for everything like Krocia.

But, something especially useful for a _thief_ in Krocia.

When people relied on wards and door-sticking charms to guard their valuables, it was particularly easy to steal when that magic simply did not affect you.

His most prized possession, now somewhere in Krocia’s slave quarters, was a firedrake scale that was thin enough he could use it as a lockpick.

It was his best find, lucky to find something equally Magically Neutral.

That didn’t help him much against magically imbued physical objects, though.

The plush floor beneath him bucked—he only just swallowed a shout, the sound of moving men just outside of his hiding spot—and his hands slid on the soft material enough that his belly was only just touching the floor when a whole section came up, catching him full on in his chest and hips and _very_ close to hitting him in his exposed genitals—

The ceiling of the crate was padded too, he found, as a matching panel came down to meet with the floor, squishing him in place between them and jerking his whole body back enough to bump him against the door.

His legs were dangling awkwardly, enough of his body weight supported that he… well, he wasn’t comfortable, but he’d been in more than enough uncomfortable positions to know that this wasn’t the worst. The door was padded, too, after all.

He supposed this was one way to make sure whatever animal you were transporting wouldn’t move around.

There was a loud clanking, a latching noise somewhere ahead of him that echoed oddly in his padded box.

“All hooked up?” called the man from earlier, “Right then, even numbers to the right, odds to the middle, and colours always to the left! Do not get on the lift until your bench has been checked! If any of our girls get hurt I’m going to put one of _you_ in these, _AYE_?”

He could only just feel that whatever he was hooked to was moving, heart pounding and mind racing. What was in the other boxes? Girls—benches—

His ass clenched, the clinical stretching he’d gotten as a ‘kindness’ before being sent to the Mad King still had him sore and feeling over sensitive…

Well, some clinical part of him calmed, if he got fucked by an animal it was at least better than whatever the Mad King planned.

The rest of him squirmed against his restraints, trying to find any wiggle space to get free while his bench was rolled along. Was he in an even number? An odd number? He strained to think if he’d noticed a colour when the lights were flashing. What did they mean? All of the bins were about the same size, weren’t they?

About the only thing he could say for sure was that wherever he was headed, whatever was going to meet him was going to be quite a bit taller than he was.

And that was if he wasn’t caught when this bench was ‘checked’.

Though, if he did get through this, if he did endure… whatever was going to be waiting for him, then the stables and kennels and whatnot were bound to be less guarded than the palace, right? No one was stupid enough to try and steal a warhorse or a hellhound, not the ones specially trained for the Mad Kings forces.

If he could just endure…

His bench stopped, and he could feel a faint prickle of power as someone used magic directly to his left.

“Huh, I don’t think…”

The mans voice went too low for him to hear. He held his breath.

Would this be the point he’d be caught?

The magic within the box thickened, pushing tight against his skin as if to restrain him, and he felt a cold poke behind him.

What the— _ah_!

Something cool and metal was smoothly inserted into his entrance, a bulbous end with a thin metal shaft inserted and only just glided along by lube long past.

He didn’t know how much had been inserted, at the very least 3 or 4 inches if he had to guess, when he heard a click and clenched down, whatever was inside of him splitting into three and spreading like a speculum to hold him open.

There was another click and he could feel a faint breeze against him.

Not much embarrassed him, but he could feel his face heat as callused fingers prodded at where he was being held open.

“Huh,” he heard. “Well Sir’s right to have this check, then, darlin’ someone went half-assed on the slick! Well don’t you worry…” his voice faded, moving away and leaving him exposed.

“…ood glug and you’ll be alright in a jiffy! Now this’ll be chilly alright darlin’?”

 He jerked in his bindings when something was slotted where he was being spread open, cold slick metal making his insides twitch, flinching when a cool ring was pressed just beyond where he was being held open.

There was another click—

He cramped, stomach spasming when it felt like a hose was turned on inside of him, an inescapable rush filling him— _stretching_ him, even, it was coming so fast. It was hardly a moment later when he could feel his stomach start to press against the padding below him, the magic holding him stretching, adjusting to stay firm around him. His stomach now felt chilled against where he’d warmed the padding

“Oy, I’m going to need the slick hose here next!”

“It’ll be another minute!” called the man behind him. “My girl here was a little thirsty!”

“They’re _all_ thirsty, that’s why we’re doing this! Hurry the fuck up!”

He was breathing quick and shallow, it really was a whole minute of that intense filling, he could almost feel it in the back of his throat when the hose—the _actual hose_ —was finally removed and with another prickle of magic that pronged insertion was removed from him.

The side of his bin was patted, and he closed his eyes when he started moving again with a cheerful “ _off you go darlin’!_ ”

What the _fuck_ needed that much lube?

Was he going to the kennels?

To the warhorses?

Something locked into place below him, well below where his feet were dangling. He kept his eyes closed, bearing down against the cramps, feeling body-warmed lube drip down his thighs, drenching his crotch.

He must have drifted off, because he woke to a soft jostling and a faint lurching sensation like he was being lowered very slowly from a great height, and the sound of more men around him.

Escorting them down to whatever animals awaited them, hmm?

He’d woken to the middle of a conversation.

“No, no, the ‘ _Hounds_ have it worse. _Boilin’_ hot come, _giant_ fuckin’ knot, and half the blighters have two willies!”

“Oh fuck off, the fillies get something already thick as a knot shoved up there, only this one’s more than half the length of their bodies! Our stallions make fine warhorses, aye, but I don’t half-wish we didn’t use more geldings…”

“ _Two_ willies, man! That’s two knots!”

“Well if that’s what we’re going by, the ‘Drakes ladies have it the worst, don’t they?”

“The fuck you on about, everyone knows the males only listen to the females.”

“Yah, but there’s a reason we need the benches for the ladies jus’ the same as we do for the horses and the ‘hounds, ya know. Males get aggressive after you add that much magic to them, imagine what it’s like when they _start off_ with twice as much magic as that?”

“Well fuck, man.”

“’S why we use the padded benches for all of ‘em, dragons included, only the coloured ones will hold up to til the worst of the rut is done before falling apart. Then the ladies can deal for themselves well enough, and once they’re satisfied they come flying back around, yeah?”

“Well hold on now, then how do they have it worse?”

“Fuckhead, Firedrakes have two knots too! And _cor_ , you already know the fucking size difference between the males and females, but _imagine_ , if you fuckin’ will, a really bigass fuckin dick rammin ya when it starts getting thicker at the base _an’_ the tip!”

“I won’t, thanks. Fuck, two? And like that?”

“Supposedly one to lock the ladies close, and the other to lock ‘em in the womb.”

“I ‘eard that some of the old ‘drakes shove whole fuckin _eggs_ out their dicks.”

“Fuckin’ _nasty_ man.”

“Okay, but those ladies have it bad once every six months or so, but the other ten months of the year is it the hounds or the horses?”

“Remember that time a bunch of the boys got really interested in that one bitch and we couldn’t get to her bench beyond sliding in some chow for her for, what, three? Four months?”

“ _Uhuh_ , remember that filly who died because that stallion, fuck, Bernard? Yeah, Bernard’s fuckin dick ripped her insides?”

“Would you both fuck off already? Remember that all those reasons are why we’re fucking _here_? Everyone gets a fuck, everyone makes it. Now get ready, we’re bringing these girls to the far room first to give the adolescents a chance before we push ‘em through to the main event.”

His heart had been pounding the whole time through that conversation, the reality of his situation sinking in.

His heart was in his throat, eyes wide and staring onto the dark, wishing he could… could just, close his ears to what they were saying.

He didn’t want to hear anymore.

He had a vivid enough imagination on his own, he didn’t need these men, _just doing their jobs_ , to be helping along his racing pulse.

He couldn’t blame anyone who ended up within the Mad Kings castle for the work they did—if you were leaving, it was not because you were _let go_ , and you did not get transferred… The term he’d heard in hushes murmurs was _fired_.

He couldn’t blame them, but he could hate them very clearly in this moment.

A new voice, from his right.

“Why, um, why d’we let the young-uns at th’girls firs’? Ain’t it best t’go fer the proven breeders?”

The man who’d sounded so passionate about everyone getting a fuck responded.

“’S t’make sure we get new blood in th’mix. With the warhorses the young’uns need a chance away from the herd leaders, and th’ hounds and dragons we got the young’uns first since their knots don’t last as long, more’a chance for it to take.”

“The young’uns _also_ ,” said one of the other men, he thinks the one who thought the Hounds had it worse, “end up lickin’ up where the last one left. Much gentler on our girls to let the boys warm ‘em up first. More likely to get a variety in the litter, too! My favourite pups are the ones with little spots on ‘em.”

“With the dragons too, though, y’know it’s the older dragons that make more males, ay? The old boys they don’t get quite as active, but when they do, oof, there’s always a male in the clutch. ‘Course males never stay with us, and the lady usually stays wild, but it’s a right treat seein’ new boys still with their shell tooth the next year, ay?”

He shuddered, cold chills running down his spine. He couldn’t imagine any situation that would have him talking of dragons with the fondness these men had.

“It is cute seein’ all the li’le ‘uns crawlin over the benches…”

“See, there y’are. They’re feckin’ terrifyin creatures, aye, but in’e end dey’re all just going for a good fuck. Not so differen’ than you lot at the pub, aye?”

The laughter around him didn’t make his trembling any better.

His cart stopped moving.

“Las’ thing’s fer the silencer, keep the ladies from panickin’, aye? Spell don’ las’ long, jes enough fer the boys to get their chance. No stressin’ the ladies when they get moved to the big’uns. Spell goes _Zeich—_ ”

It was eerie, being surrounded by Silence; attached as it was to the actual container, he was actually experiencing the effects.

He’d had more than a few jobs when he was younger just managing to sit in the right spot and listen to what some Important Person thought was a Silenced conversation, simply because they erected a Shroud.

Like this, though…

He was trapped in the box, no light, hardly able to wiggle, and the only sounds available to him were his own breathing, the thunder of his heartbeat, and the occasional slick sound where his lube-slick thighs rubbed against each other.

The rumble of other carts, of other benches getting moved is cut out, no more rumble of distant men doing their job… His hands clenched against the edge of the platform. When he swallowed it sounded loud in his ears.

He could feel it when the cart stopped moving.

He didn’t know how long he was waiting there—he started to panic, breath speeding, struggling and pushing to move—what was that?

He stopped, breath still loud in his ears, and counted his own heartbeat until he could calm down. Did he hear something?

How long had he been there?

He kept counting his breath.

At 46 the crate rocked forward, his heart skipping a beat—it was still completely silent, at least until sudden air at his backside and something hot and pointed was slipping _rightuphis_ —

“AH! Fu-uh-uck-ah-ah!”

It was narrow but _long_ , and it didn’t have any patience, hammering at him quick and hard that he could hear the slop of lube at his ass—

A burst of warmth at his lower belly, and a strange pressure for a moment, before it was pulled out, an almost suction-cupping sensation—

He didn’t have time to register the heated slickness against him before it was back, slap-slap-slapping away at him.

His face is warm, his situation settling in—that’s an _animals_ —and that was just—it was _deep_ —

Blood roared in his ears, his cheeks stinging with his blush as the reality that an animal was having its way with him truly sunk in.

There was that pressure again, more warmth, and this time there was a bit of a stretch when the animal behind him pulled back— _a knot_ , he thinks, _oh nooo_ …

He still can’t hear anything outside of his own body, but he can feel… something, through the crate, something— _ah_ , oh!

The next animal was up, this was definitely an older one if only based on the men’s talk from before—there was a definite stretch now, his slick rim feeling the burn of a stretch as his rear is hammered, as he’s _speared_ on overwarm… animal dick. Hound dick?

He didn’t want to think about being knotted for longer, on something bigger on the older, _bigger_ Hounds…

He didn’t want to, no, no, no- _oooh_ …

He could feel it this time, stomach feeling plump with warmth already, his ass resisting the sudden fullness as its knot swelled, pumping that bulging flesh in and out of his now sensitive rim.

He had to squirm, the pressure on his belly uncomfortable with the heat of Hellhound come—he supposed it made sense, with the hellfire they were known for…

The animal behind him didn’t settle even when its knot wouldn’t let him go, it kept tug, tug, tugging in short, sharp pulls until it could pull its knot from his ass.

He isn’t surprised when something long and hot immediately takes its place, hardly letting his ass clench down on the emptiness… but whatever it is feels diff—

It’s out, then back in, long and thin and… snaking, thicker at the base, but flexible?

Faster than the others, but too different, inouti _nout_ inout—a tongue? They’d mentioned something, but—

“Ah!”

No, that’s a dick.

Part of him wants to be upset—and he is, he _really_ is—but this next one managed to pop in at just the right-wrong angle, brushing up against a spot inside of him that made his toes curl… and it’d be a lot easier, he thinks, to bear through this until the benches gave out if he could just _zone out_ through it. The stretching from before, when he’d been prepared for the Mad King, was enough that there was only the occasional stretch—but he could still feel it, pressure right up inside of him, and there was the friction at his entrance even with the lube…

 _Zoning out_ was difficult to do with his dick plumping up where it’s hanging between his legs…

This one was erratic with its thrusts, no rhythm for him to brace himself against, no consistency… and he figures out why when something else slithered in around the hard shaft already up his ass—the beast had to be struggling to stay in place if another was trying to lick in as well!

“What the fuck,” he panted, pressing his face into the padding and bracing his feet against the door, “what the _fuck_.”

The tongue left just in time for the knot to swell—how many was that now? How had he lost track so soon, it hadn’t been all that… three? Three knots?

Same as the others, more heat, getting more uncomfortable by the load, paired with a swollen stretch at his rim, pressure at his belly and constant tugging as soon as the deed was done—

“H- _ah_ - _ah_ some fu-cking _patience_ , ah!”

The tugging continued.

It was little comfort to think that these were animals, and even if they could hear him they likely wouldn’t listen.

These were the Mad Kings beasts, after all.

He hissed discomfort when the beast pulled out, knot stretching his—

Knot stretching his rim again, smaller, after…

After…

There’s more tongues, clearly tongues, at his ass while he tries to settle that in his head, the feeling of a large knot pulling free, followed shortly … by… another…

Another cock, long enough that he feels the stretch, again, thick enough for it too, like they’re working their way up, and he thinks, _Hellhounds_. These are _Hellhounds_ , right?

He couldn’t have…

This one grinds _forward_ when the knot forms, not trying to tug away immediately as more heat pools somewhere behind his navel, and he doesn’t want to focus on it, doesn’t want to focus…

But with the grinding it’s not hard to notice that… that pressure, deeper inside, as something… thicker was pushed deeper.

He couldn’t…

He can feel wet, slippery heat against his ass where it’s swollen against the—hellhound? Not hellhound?—that he has inside of him, trying to lick inside—

Something above him thumps, loud and startling, and he can just start to hear… scrabbling. The sound of something sharp against stone.

It’s muffled.

The silencing spell is failing, far sooner than he’d expect… if he were around Magic Positive creatures like Hellhounds.

The beast pulls back with one strong yank, pulling a cry of pain from him at the abruptness of it, and he feels his rim flex, feeling _odd_ against himself before another beast takes its place behind him, immediately hammering away before pressing in, once. It stopped, there.

His stomach reels, hands gripping the padding when he was suddenly tilted forward—when the whole _bench_ was tilted forwards, the whole _crate_ and he couldn’t escape the feeling of _I’m going to fall_.

He doesn’t have time to wonder before he feels something else at his entrance, something familiar but also definitely Not a Tongue.

 _Ah_ , a moment of clarity.

_A bigger dragon has tilted the bench and is going to--_

His thoughts white out at the pressure at his rear, _thick_ and _too much_ as it breaches alongside the younger dragon, pressing just below where they were connected and sliding _in_.

It’s too much.

He can feel where the younger dragon’s member, long and thin, was twitching against his insides, pulsing against the older dragon—longer and thicker, reaching much deeper inside, making him gasp and pant at the pressure.

At his left, a sudden spot of light catches his shattered attention; a claw, thick as his finger, puncturing through the metal.

He doesn’t have time to fully accept that yes, that was not the claw of a Hellhound, when the beast behind him starts to thrust.

He didn’t know why he assumed it wouldn’t be the same jackhammer pace, sloshing the dragon come and lube already inside of him, rocking his whole body and shaking the crate, _thud_ , _thud_ , _thud_ echoing around him.

Thick as they were, together, he finds the best-worst thing is the way his prostate is _reamed_ with each thrust.

There was a low buzz of noise when he felt the heat surge inside of him, more too-much-stretch at his rim and deep inside of him, somewhere he can’t flinch but he can feel as the dragon behind him tried to grind further forward, grinding the smaller dragons knot further into him.

His stomach hurt.

It takes longer for the knot to go down enough for the dragon to pull free, both coming loose and immediately being replaced by _too many tongues_.

He can feel the crate moving, the jostling of dragons around it, feels numb to it even as his dick drools arousal, not enough consistent stimulation to let him do more than _feel it_.

There’s a lot of movement.

Another takes its place, sliding in smooth to his stretched ass, hammering away—the one after is bigger, again, but on its own, and his stomach cramps with the knots—

He thinks he’s seeing things, when there’s bright light in front of him—he’s startled, squinting against the light, against the sound—hissing, the sound of claws clicking on metal, on stone, a low ongoing grumble—that he can only gape when the opening in the front is filled by the red-gold scales of a dragon, amber eyes flashing by the opening before more scales fill the opening.

He’s still gaping, slow to process the thought that, oh, that’s what dragon dicks look like, when the light is blocked out from his view when the dragon thrusts, filling his space with the smell of musk, wet heat slapping his face before the dragon was thrusting again—

_“Gglk—_

His jaw clamps—tries to, teeth slipping against skin, not doing anything as the dragon did as it’s fellows—the hard edge of its not quite mushroom tip pressing against his teeth before attempting to push beyond his throat.

He’s far enough back that that’s all that the dragon can do—he smacks his arms out, fingers slipping against slick all down its length, trying to find a way to pull it from his mouth and trying not to lose his mind with fear because he _can’t even reach its base with his arms_ and that was _too gods damned long_.

All he could taste was salt, dragon dick forcing his mouth wide, a heavy scent of musk clogging out anything else, and he nearly choked when one dick was pulled from his ass and an even thicker one shoved in—

That was enough for the dragon in front of him, because his mouth was forced wide, cheeks puffing against the knot at its tip, and he could hardly get a breath before what felt like a hose was released directly down his throat. His teeth clamp down automatically, pressing against the rubbery tough skin of its member—it must hardly be able to feel that, his teeth no threat against even its most delicate hide.

With enough force, too, that it was after the first, second, third pulse that he had to swallow, frantic against choking—

Oooh, his stomach was _aching_.

His eyes widened when he immediately felt a tug; the dragon had done what it wanted to do, and like the others was ready to _go_.

It wasn’t even done coming, an erratic burst still threatening to choke him.

An unexpectedly strong _thrust_ from behind startled him enough to relax his jaw—

It _hurt_ , felt like his teeth had been loosened when the swollen cockhead pulled free; felt like added insult when the dick swayed and let loose another torrent directly in his face, dousing him and soaking the pad underneath him.

The dragon behind him left another load in him and yanked back, leaving him gaping for a hot second, panting and covered in jizz, before the next stepped up behind him.

More and more holes were letting in light, claw punctures making a mess of the bench around him, a variety of sized dragons coming at him from behind—

But it seemed like the older dragons were taking over, the smaller dragons trying their luck at the forward most hole.

Not nearly long enough, they never got close enough to his face, though they made up for it with enthusiasm.

Apparently being able to thrust in a hole was enough, as he found himself getting drenched in hot dragon come more often than not, musky jizz splattering his face, his hair, splattering his shoulders…

He kept his eyes closed.

He didn’t know how he was still conscious.

His stomach felt like a mess of cramps, there was a steady stream of hot fluids down his thighs, and he had lost count… however long ago. He was tired, and his dick hurt. He didn’t know how long he’d been dripping for, but his balls ached like he was trying for another orgasm too soon— _another_? Ha, he hadn’t even had _one_!

He was too exhausted to be alarmed at the noises around him anymore, at the greater light from the holes in the walls, not even from the curious chirruping he heard ahead of him when there wasn’t a dick trying to thrust towards his mouth.

He wasn’t too exhausted to be alarmed when, in an unexpected break from getting reamed, the entire crate was _lifted_ —

Blinking and rubbing gummy come from his eyes, he ended up clutching the slick padding underneath him as he was tilted almost entirely upright.

An enormous amber eye shared down at him through the hole, slit pupils dilating as a clear eyelid blinked sideways.

He blinked back, wide eyed, and felt his stomach twist.

He also felt a new rush of slick down his thighs and out the hole at the other end, the angle and his renewed nerves resulting in an audible _splat_.

Matters were not made better when the eye disappeared, but he wasn’t set down again.

He had to close his eyes again, the view from the frontward hole dizzying as the _impossibly big dragon_ who was holding his crate turned and… and… wandered off

with him.

 _What the hell_? Was he going to get eaten? Boxed lunch!

When he finally felt that they’d stopped moving, he had to clutch at the padding for a different reason as he was tilted downward—blood rushed to his head, hair sticking to his face in a gummy, jizzy mess.

He felt a warm breeze against his ass.

_“Don’t—”_

The tongue that breached him was at least as thick around as the largest dragon that had him, too warm and too slick by far as it jab, jab, jabbed into him, licking up the leavings of however many couplings. The pointed tip curved and waggled deep inside, swirling up his guts, and he could _hear_ the dragon breathing, swallowing, could _feel_ slippery wet drool sliding and adding to the mess of his thighs.

It pressed in _deep_ , deep enough he could feel the press of its snout against his cheeks, this far down its tongue thicker than his arm, and the slow retract of made him feel every impossible inch that had been inside of him, tasting him.

He was reminded of younger days, of sopping up the last of soup with a bit of bread, of licking the bowl clean…

He opens his eyes, not sure when he’d closed them and looks directly at the dragons cock.

It’s… long. Coming out of a rosy slit in the base of... probably it’s stomach, at this angle and distance it dominates his whole field of view outside of the box.

It would almost look like a humans, except…

Except humans didn’t get that large, or long, humans didn’t get ridges. Healthy humans didn’t have nubby bits like that up and down the shaft, didn’t have a clear swell at the crown and base where knots would form. They weren’t that _veiny_ , weren’t that _colour_ , weren’t that—

He swallows his gorge, the world tilting again as his crate was set down—he heard the front two edges of it set down, at least.

His stomach rolled with the motion, cramps making him gag, the discomfort almost masking the feel of something hot and slick blanketing his entire rear end—

Nothing could distract from the sound of metal crumpling around him as the dragon _gripped_ and _pressed_ …

He’s gasping, tailbone aching, and a fine tremor has taken over his body when the intense pressure lifts, for just a moment. In that moment he can feel a slight pinch and suction; it takes a moment for him to realize that was his opening suctioning around the slightly looser skin of the dragons urethra, tugging…

The bottom drops out from his stomach just in time for the dragon to wrench the metallic bench down, pain ripping through him as his body is forced _wide_ , wider than he’d ever been before on flared dragon dick, the shriek of metal around him drowning out his own screams.

It feels like his organs are rearranging themselves, a burning wet feeling travelling up his core as the dragon below him pressed down.

The air was pushed out of him, he felt like he was slowly, steadily deflating as more of him is pushed out of the way to make room for the dragon. He could feel each nub down the dragons shaft, could feel it when he was pushed—with some effort—past ridges, could feel as the dragon was suctioned up just that little bit further past each point.

He gagged at the pressure when there was suddenly more pressure, the dragon suddenly wider than before, his rim pulling even more, realizing he’d… he’d nearly taken it all. That was it’s second knot.

F-fuck…

It was an out of body experience, when the dragon shifted its grip and started _thrusting_.

He felt like an ill-fitting suit with his seams popping, a _much_ - _loved_ _toy_ with all of his stuffing rearranged to one end after so much rough play, like a machine with too many buttons being pressed—

He could _feel too much_. It hurt, it ached, there was so much pressure, so much scraping even through all the slick even now dripping down his thighs, and yet between one gasp and the next he came. His dick spasmed, already flopping around from the vigor of the dragon’s thrusts, and it was distant to the constant _pressure_.

It felt like his breathing was controlled by the dragon, punched out and dragged in with each thrust and withdrawal, the dragon adjusting its grip as the metal and padding came away around him, crumpling, and he’s left in the rough scaled grip of a fucking dragon.

He’s trembling all over, full of... feelings, when the dragon pushes him down hard against itself, and lets go.

He’s gasping, the pressure inside seeming to swell without the dragons grip around him.

He almost throws up when the world swings, the other pressure high in his chest keeping him from following through, and he can barely see through the slurry fo come and tears to see that the dragon is trotting somewhere, his body still seared on its massive cock. He doesn’t have the breath to scream when it launches itself into the air, each thrust of its wings jerking him on its dick—the thick ridges even at its base are a terrible friction, but they keep him attached to its cock as it spirals higher and higher, its roar barely audible over the rush of wind and pounding of his own heart in his ears. The cool air is a balm against his overheated skin—he feels he must be steaming with how much heat is packed inside.

He only knows that the dragon lands because of the sudden, deep thrust, only knows they’re back under cover when his skin overheats itself again.

He blearily opens his eyes at the sound of squawking and roaring, focusing just in time to see the massive clawed hand of the dragon wearing him like a cock sleeve pin a smaller dragon down, shoving it on it’s back and— _fuck_ —

Dragons bellies weren’t abrasive, their scales not ridged like on their backs, but being pinned between the two as the larger dragon rutted him against the belly of the smaller one wasn’t comfortable. His only saving grace was that he was still covered in lube and other dragon juices, keeping the rutting slightly slick.

His skin felt stretched thin, bruised between the two as the smaller dragon squirmed and the large red dragon chasing its completion.

He felt the dragons roar more than heard it when it finally got there—he couldn’t breathe for a moment against the pressure inside, high up, the tip of the dragons cock expanding far within him even as its base did the same, an awful slurping sensation as it nestled within him as it continued to rock itself—and himself—against the dragons belly.

The rush of warmth inside of him brought sweat to his brow—brought sweat to his everything, magma under his skin as the dragon shivered and came, and came, and came.

He must have passed out, even briefly, because it felt like he only closed his eyes for a moment before he was waking to something pressing his mouth open.

He opened his eyes, mouth forced open, to look up to two dragons—the red one he was speared on, still, belly round with stretchmarks, and a smaller one, both looking at him, one drowsy, one expectant.

He only gets a moment to gasp before the cock is shoved past his teeth, its bulbous head down his throat in a second.

He’s disoriented, the dragon appearing to be over him sideways—oh, the larger dragon is on its side.

The dragon going at his mouth is thrusting hard, rhythm rabbit quick and shoving hard to get in deeper and deeper—he doesn’t know how he can breathe, how he’s catching his breath, when the beast isn’t pulling out.

He can feel the dragon’s body laid out against his stuffed swollen one, inching further and further onto him as it frantically tries to get as much as possible into him—when he feels a sudden bulge at his lips, and the dragons thrusting gets slower, presses harder.

He doesn’t have the strength to even lift a hand against it when the dragons knot presses past his teeth, swelling to stuff his cheeks—feels like he’s choking, something burning far down in his chest where its second knot has swollen. He thinks it’s right in his gut, if there’s even room for it.

It feels like his head is under water, a dragon above, around, and under him, that he doesn’t notice the new pressure at his rear, not at first.

His body is almost completely numb to feeling, but the sudden bulge—

It feels like his body is being scraped out, the vibration of the dragon within him groaning as its knot softens slightly, pulls out just enough that his hips don’t break with the added pressure as something is pushed through its dick inside of him.

He can feel it as it’s suctioned up into his body, warping the dragons dick around it—warping his body around the dragons dick—but he doesn’t have the breath to hold as the dragon slowly, slowly pulls its dick free, that heavy weight laid and still in his sperm-heavy guts.

The last gush of thick—thicker—sperm in the gaping maw of his anus is lost to the headiness of sudden air as the smaller dragon abruptly pulls itself free, leaving frothy dragon seed dripping from his mouth and leaving him gasping and choking.

He slides down into the surprisingly soft nest of the oldest dragon, smaller dragons creeping closer to sniff at his strangeness, the soft thing Round with Egg, backing off when the large dragon rumbles at them.

The Mad King will never see the Thief again.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit... rougher than my usual stuff, I think. Much less edited, but I hope you enjoy it just the same.  
> This wrote itself out fairly quick, and I don't imagine there'll be any sequel or follow up for this.  
> I sincerely hope everyone has had a lovely weekend, and I'm always looking for prompts, so if you have an idea feel free to comment in any story of mine ;)  
> Or go to my collection and you can post a prompt there!  
> Thanks for reading!  
> ~XPeri


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